grief and bravery. It was done in memory of that poorsailor.

'Get ap, Dobbin!' he called presently, and ducked as if urging his horse. 'Get ap, Dobbin! Man'll die 'fore ever we git there.'

We all worked upon him with might and main. The white went slowly out of his face. We lifted him to a sitting posture. Mother and Hope and Uncle Eb were rubbing his hands and feet.

'Where am I?' he enquired, his face now badly swollen.

'Huh?' he asked, with that kindiy and familiar grunt of interrogation.

'At David Brower's,' I repeated.

'Well, I'll have t' hurry,' said he, trying feebly to rise. 'Man's dyin' over - ' he hesitated thoughtfully, 'on the Plains,' he added, looking around at us.

Grandma Bisnette brought a lamp and held itso the light frll on his face. He looked from one to another. He drew one of his hands away and stared at it.

'Hm! Too bad. How'd it happen?' he asked. 'I don't know.'

Great!（88）